


Not Brutal But Honest

by Rrrowr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Lucifer as Sam | Sam as Lucifer, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:17:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrrowr/pseuds/Rrrowr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easier for Castiel to lie to himself when there's no light to reveal the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Brutal But Honest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: [this art](http://moishacollins.tumblr.com/post/15374459321) (NSFW)

Castiel hadn’t thought he would appreciate this sort of thing, if he was honest, but Lucifer has a way of being convincing where nothing else can be. All Lucifer must do is make Castiel curious, make him wonder what this would be like or what that would feel like, and Castiel will give in. It only works the first time, of course, but that’s the only time that Lucifer needs.

Moments like this. Being blindfolded is something with which Castiel is already familiar — the utter blindness, the complete reliance upon his other senses, and the way the darkness makes his body more sensitive to the changes in Lucifer’s grip. Wrapped in darkness, Castiel can’t see the facsimile of Sam’s expressions, and it’s easier to imagine that the hands on his hips truly belong to Sam Winchester — that when those hands run over his back or between his thighs, it is because Sam is guiding them. It is easier to lie to himself when there’s no light to reveal the truth.

Being bound is new, however, and at first Castiel thinks that he will not like it. He’s already trapped in a human form, already trapped here with his brother, so why should he like to be trapped further still?

Yet, bound as he is, he can’t escape the force behind Sam’s thrusts with more than shifts and squirms. Lucifer isn’t really brutal — is never unkind or careless because that is a gift Lucifer can afford to give Castiel, brother to brother — but he is not precisely gentle either. Normally, Cas would be able to stretch out a hand, brace his fingers against Lucifer’s torso or thigh in order to ask for a moment to gather his bearings again, but like this, Castiel can do nothing. He must take all of it. 

Castiel wants to sob under the ferocity of the feelings. Without the moments of pause, it quickly becomes wave after wave of sensation, cresting over his body in electricity and heat. He is tense and hard under Sam’s hands, under Sam’s body — every thrust setting his nerves alight — and his senses are flooded with the scent of sex, of the wet blurt of precome that’s soaking into the sheets beneath him, and of Sam. For all that Lucifer has laid claim to Sam’s body, there are aspects of it that are entirely unchangeable.

It’s easy for Castiel to lose himself in the lie.

His desire and need claw through his body. He wants to push himself back onto Sam’s cock and he wants to touch himself until he comes and he wants his ever-building urgency to finally be met and be done with. But it does not — not in this minute, or the next — and he chews on his lower lip to keep from crying out as the feeling carries on and on and on.

Then Lucifer slides a hand into his hair and turns his head so that he might bend and murmur roughly into Castiel’s ear. “Don’t do that,” he says. Though it’s Sam’s voice, it is Lucifer’s words, and as Lucifer rubs at Cas’ mouth with his thumb, Castiel whimpers, withdrawing his teeth with a shallow gasp. “That’s it, little brother. I want to hear you. Let me hear you?”

Castiel obliges — at first because Lucifer asks but then because it seems to help, both to ease his tension and to spur Lucifer on. He doesn’t precisely hear himself, but he feels his voice being punched out of him in little huffs of sound that match the quick jerks of Sam’s hips. His breath feels raw in his lungs. He will not last much longer.

“Sam,” he groans and when Lucifer laughs above him, Castiel corrects himself. “Lucifer, please—”

Lucifer tightens his hold, and obscenely, Castiel shudders when his fingertips dig into the hollows of his hips. Sam’s cock plunges into him a few more times before stilling, fattening to an impossible girth and spilling inside him, and Castiel twists uncomfortably, feeling the wet heat that leaks out between them. A whine is trapped in his throat. It hitches into nothing as Lucifer fumbles under the fold of his body and takes him in hand — jerking him quickly until he writhes, still pinned between Sam’s cock at the bed, and comes in thick strands beneath them. Afterward, Castiel feels exhausted, used, and feels oddly good about it. Lucifer is gentle as he unbinds Castiel’s wrists and ankles, and he kisses each reddened mark as if they were precious.

“You want me again, don’t you?” Lucifer asks.

“No,” says Castiel.

Lucifer echoes him with a purr around the word and pulls Castiel’s hand to Sam’s chest — to the precise place where, were his powers permitting, Castiel might slide his hand in to feel the burning power of Sam’s soul. In the end, it is his most bitter weakness to want to feel close to Sam in the midst of all this bleakness.

His fingers curl into a fist against Sam’s breastbone. “Yes,” he says, amending his words. “Always.”


End file.
